


Drown an eye, unused to flow

by saymynamedarling



Series: hands brushed, briefly [1]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Hugs, I just want them to hug ok, Light Angst, Lonely!Martin, M/M, Pre-Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims - Freeform, Pre-Relationship, jon deserves a hug, martin is an amazing hugger, s4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:33:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22042609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saymynamedarling/pseuds/saymynamedarling
Summary: Jon comes home after waking up from a coma to find an unexpected guest.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Series: hands brushed, briefly [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619314
Comments: 13
Kudos: 140





	Drown an eye, unused to flow

**Author's Note:**

> It's short and sweet, these boys have me WEAK.

For all the misfortunes that had been inflicted upon Jon, physical therapy was the worst. Spending six months bedridden in a coma had caused his muscles to atrophy, so he was forced into daily, and then weekly sessions where someone coaxed him in intolerable gentle tones to move his useless muscles.

Despite the vigorous schedule, Jon still looked emancipated when he walked out of the hospital on the day of his discharge. It wasn’t a particularly cold day, but Jon was skin and bones and had very little in the natural way of conserving heat. They were standing in the hospital entrance, while the sparse, everpresent crowd surged around them. The way Goergie fussed over him, in her brisk sharp way was comforting but for some reason, it felt wrong.

“I’m not going to break, Georgie,” he said tersely when she tried to wrap another scarf around his neck. 

She paused her ministrations, a furrow of irritation appearing between her brows.

“Alright, Jon,” she agreed, her voice placating but obviously disbelieving. Jon bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying anything else. He was lucky Georgie was here at all. He felt a little bad, a little bit like an arsehole, but. God. 

He just spent six months in a coma, and already wanted to go back to sleep. 

Georgie insisted on paying for the cab, and gave Jon a chilling look when he protested her coming up and setting him up for the night in his new flat. He shut up when she pointed out that she’d already moved all his things in while he was in his coma, so the place was technically more hers than his. 

“I’ve slept over, from time to time,” she explained while she opened the front door, ”Your place was closer to the hospital. I cleaned up, of course.” She smiled over her shoulder, leading him inside. Her eyes were tired, and the beginnings of crows feet that were not there before were edging her eyes. For a moment Jon was hit with pangs of what could have been, both of them walking into an apartment that was home to them both. He managed to shake off the bittersweet thoughts pretty easily. It was a universal truth that Goergie Barker was too good for him. He’d already had his chance. 

He expected her to mother him for a while more than she did, but he must have been mistaking her for Martin. She simply made him a cup of tea, and forced him to eat some horrid pasta she’d concocted before kissing his cheek and bidding him goodnight. 

“Do call if you need anything, Jon,” she ordered, and then she was off. 

The new flat was unfamiliar and very sterile. Not unfamiliar from his last flat, minus the clutter that comes from being lived in for many years. The only signs of humanity were the thick blanket draped over his sofa, obviously where Goegie had spent her nights. She would not have taken liberty with his bed, Jon thought regretfully. He didn’t bother exploring beyond the living room, only stumbled to his bedroom after Goergie left. His grandmother’s antique bookshelves were on either side of the single window, which was the only source of light in the room, currently shedding the late sun rays onto his newly made-up bed which - 

There was someone in his bed.

Jon yelped and backed up against the door, banging his cane into the dresser, his heart beating in his throat. The noise seemed to startle the shape underneath his blankets - and Jon couldn’t help but scream as the shape moved and sat up, dark brown curls catching the light, hazel eyes widening at the sight of Jon. For one horrible moment, Jon didn’t recognize him. 

“M - martin?” Jon stuttered. 

“Jon,” Martin breathed at the same time, and then they’re both a blur of limbs and soft cloth as Martin launches himself half-across the room, tugging at Jon until he’s enclosed in his warm embrace which - God -it felt good. It felt good to be held after - after all, that had happened. 

Dimly, he was aware that he was clinging to Martin’s larger frame in a way he would never have before. Thick arms encircle his body so that he was almost engulfed in Martin, his warmth, the musky scent of his aftershave, which he recognized as new, somehow. He himself was clutching the other man, most definitely causing him pain with the way his fingernails were digging into his back. 

It felt good to be held.

They stayed like that for an immeasurable amount of time, before Jon came back to himself and the awkwardness crept in. Martin seemed to sense it too, and he stepped back first, clearing his throat and shuffling his feet like a newborn foal. 

An uncomfortable silence settled in. Neither man seemed to know what to say.

“How have you -” Jon started.

‘It’s good to see - “ Martin said, at the same time.  
Both of them paused, looking at each other with identical startled expressions. Jon bit his lip and cast his eyes to the side, despairing at his own social incompetence. 

“Yeah, you know what.” Jon’s eyes snapped back to Martin, who was staring at him with a rather odd look on his face. 

“What?” Jon asked, wincing as his voice cracked midword. 

“I shouldn’t be here.” Martin’s lips thinned, his expression grown haggard. 

“Oh,” Jon replied, uselessly.

“Yeah, I’m just. I’m going to head out, now.” Martin readjusted his shirt, tugging at his sleeves. It was only then that Jon noticed what he was wearing.

A dull grey oxford, paired with a darker, duller grey pair of trousers. They were obviously tailored to Martin’s body and made him look expensive and severe. The only colour on him was his eyes and the deep, navy tie that was pushed into the hollow of his throat like a noose. Or a leash, Jon thought, darkly. Coupled with the new worry lines and resigned expression, he doesn’t look a thing like Martin. 

“You - you look nice,” he offered, wincing immediately. Please, don’t leave, he doesn’t say. 

“Thanks,” Martin said, dully. “Could you move? You’re blocking the door.”

Jon regarded him carefully. 

“Basira said something about Peter Lukas,” he said. 

The effect was instantaneous. His back straightened and his jaw set - _he used to have a softly rounded jaw, but now it’s almost sharp_ \- and a fiercely defiant expression took over Martin’s pleasant features. 

“Did she,” he replied. 

“Martin, he’s incredibly dangerous,” Jon said, stricken, “if you’re - you’re being held against your will, I can help, I can -” 

The other man cut him off. “I assure you, Jon, I know exactly what I’m doing,” the defiant expression was still in place, “You just need to trust me, I know he’s dangerous -”

“You obviously don’t, if you’re still - “

“I don’t think you have the right to - “

“I - I don’t? You’re my- Martin you’re - “

“Enough!” Martin exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. A fetching flush was taking over his face, which was an odd thing to think about while arguing with his - 

“Move out of the way, Jon,” Martin all but ordered. “I’m not going to stay here and argue with you. You need to rest, anyway.”

Jon took a deep breath and planted his cane and feet solidly in front of the door. There was no doubt that Martin could move him out of the way, from the difference in their sizes alone, but it was the principle of the thing. He met the other man’s eyes squarely. 

“No.”

Martin blinked. His lips twisted into what could’ve been a smile or a grimace. 

“Alright then,” he said. And then the entire room started to grow cold. 

Despair, and loneliness. Goergie had left in a hurry, didn’t seem to want to spend any more time with him than she could avoid. Basira was curt and obviously didn’t care much about him either. And now, now the only person he thought he could trust, _the one person he thought was - Martin was -_

All his eyes opened and he was met with the startled visage of Martin, half-covered in fog.  
_“Martin,”_ he said, _“what have you done?”_

“I’ve become a monster,” came the faded reply, “we match now, Jon.”

And then he was gone, and Jon was left alone in his empty bedroom, in his empty apartment.

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted them to hug. ;-; Comments are most welcome.


End file.
